


Haunting You, Haunting Me

by moonlightof1982



Series: Haunted [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightof1982/pseuds/moonlightof1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunting You, Haunting Me

Sansa stared at the ruby ring in shock. It was beautiful. The stone was large and circular, and had tiny white diamonds enclosing it. The jewels sparkled in the morning sun-rays, and glittered as she moved it. But the beauty of the ring is not what stunned her. It was the fact that it was given to her by Petyr. “Why did he give me this, and on my left hand ring finger, and not my right?”, thought Sansa. The ring was made for a king to give his queen, not for a father to give her daughter. Suddenly, her mind traveled back to the passion of last night. The lovemaking, the hot candle wax on her bare belly… She could barely believe that they had fooled everyone this long. The servants must have heard the moans. “Father” and “Child” is something that Petyr and Sansa will never be.

Sansa stands up, and finally leaves the bedchamber. She searches the solar for Petyr, and finds it empty. She makes for the door, and instead, finds the basin filled with steaming hot water, and a brass stand. On it was, soap, a hair brush, a large linen towel, a new scrub brush, a kettle with a goblet, and a note written in Petyr’s hand. 

“Good Morning, Sansa sweet!” “Have your bath, and drink the moon tea.” “It taste bad, but as you know, it is needed.” “Afterward, go to your bedchambers for more gifts.” “Make sure you burn this after reading it.” “I will wake Sweetrobin, and get him ready for the morning meal.” “Looking forward to seeing you.”

From,

Petyr Baelish, Lord Protector

Sansa read the letter, walked to the newly lit hearth, and watched the note burn to ash. Sansa removed her robe and night shift, and sat down in the hot water. Her aching muscles needed this. She wished she could sleep there, but knew there were other tasks that needed to be dealt with. She scrubbed herself clean, and washed her hair. She dried herself with the long linen towel, and left it on the floor next to the basin. She took a few moments to let her hair dry by the hearth. While next to the fire, she managed to choke down the moon tea. Once dry, she styled her hair into a long braid. In the linen towel, and robe, and with her night shift in hand, walked from the solar, closing the door behind her.

Once back in her bedchamber, Sansa saw five beautiful, new gowns in her size, needles, and spools of thread for sewing, two silver hair pins, one of a direwolf, and the other of a mockingbird, and lovely doll with a blue dress, and red hair. Sansa loved the little doll, and reminded her of the one her father had given her when the first moved to King’s Landing. She put the needles and thread on her stand, next to the bed, four of her dresses, in one her trunks, the sliver pins with the rest of her jewels, and left the doll on the bed. Sansa changed into one of the new gowns, and left her bedchambers for the kitchens. 

Sansa found Petyr and Sweetrobin at the table, eating honeycakes, blackberries, and slices of pork sausage. Sweetrobin was drinking milk, while Petyr was sipping a light, sweet golden wine. Petyr offered a subtle grin, pleased that Sansa was wearing one of her new gowns. When Sweetrobin saw her, he ran to her to show her the gift that Petyr had brought him. It was also a doll, with black hair, and grey eyes wearing a black tunic. It looked a little like Petyr. Sansa smiled at little lord, and said she liked it. 

“I want a story!", said Sweetrobin, holding his doll. “I want to hear about the White Walkers.” Sansa looked to Petyr, and he gave his approval. “Go, you two.” “I’m going back to bed.” “I under slept last night.”, said Petyr, looking right into Sansa‘s eyes. His own eyes sparkled with mischief. Sansa blushed. Petyr stood up from the table, gave Sweetrobin a squeeze on the shoulder, and Sansa, a light and playful pull of the her braid. Sansa could hear him yawning as he left the room.

In Sweetrobin’s chambers, Sansa climed into bed and let his head nuzzle her breasts. She really didn't like it, but for some reason, unbeknownst to Sansa, it brought him comfort and peace. “Tell me about the White Walkers… please!”, asked Sweetrobin, his big eyes on hers. Sansa smiled, and decided to retell the story that her old servant woman, Nan, used to tell. Sansa gave him a nefarious stare, and said,

“Oh my sweet, summer child.” “What do you know about fear?” “Fear is for the Winter, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep.” “Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides for years, and children are born, and, live, and, die, all in darkness.” “That is the time for fear, my little lord, when the White Walkers move through the woods.” “Thousands of years ago, there came a night that lasted a generation.” “Kings froze to death in their castles, same as the shepherds in their huts.” “And women smothered their babies, rather than see them starve, and wept, and felt the tears, freeze on their cheeks.”

Sansa turned to Sweetrobin and asked, “So, is this the sort of story that you like?” Sweetrobin, with a frightened look in his eyes, only nodded.

“In that darkness, the White Walkers came for the first time.” “They swept through cities and kingdoms, riding their dead horses, hunting with their packs of pale spiders, big as hounds…

Before the story was finished, Sweetrobin was fast asleep, still clutching his doll. Sansa nearly laughed, and marveled at how the boy fell so fast. “Maybe you have the right idea, little one.” Instead of Sansa leaving, she pulled the blanket over both of them, put her arm around him, and soon, was fast asleep as well.

***

It was dinnertime when one of the servants woke Sansa up. Sweetrobin as still lying in her chest, fast asleep. Sansa tickled him, and in his sleep, he squirmed, just enough to break free of him, but not wake him up. The serving girl said that Petyr ordered a small feast to be prepared for the two of them in his solar. She told Sansa that he was waiting for her. She also told Sansa that Peytr ordered Sweetrobin to be given Dreamwine while she was asleep, he would be down for the rest of the night. “He wants no interruption.” she thought. 

Sansa was thankful for that, and quickly left Sweetrobin’s chambers without a backward glance. She didn’t want Sweetrobin to think that she would sleep with him every night. The only bed Sansa wanted to sleep in was Petyrs’. As she walked to Petyr’s solar, she noticed the ruby ring still on her finger. Sansa loved the ring, as she loved all of her gifts, but didn't know what to make of it. It was so beautiful, so extravagant. She wondered why, and for what purpose, it was given. 

Nervously, Sansa knocked, and waited for his reply. She heard Petyr say “Come in”, and she did, and bolted the door. Sansa walked to Petyr, and gave him a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. He took her hand, and walked her to the table. He pulled out the oak and leather chair, and she sat, waiting for what was to come. Petyr poured small goblet of Arbor Gold, smiling. 

The first dish was a creamy mushroom soup, which she knew was Petyr favorite dish. It was thick, rich, and smooth going down. Not too different from Peytr.

“How was your rest, sweetling.” asked Petyr, from across the table.

”I slept well, but I don’t think that I will sleep in Sweetrobin’s chamber anymore.” “He likes to… nuzzle.”

Petyr licked his lips, and smiled, saying, “I know how he feels, my lady”, “I can’t wait until I can bury my face in those delectable breasts of yours.” His eyes darted to her covered chest.

“What’s the next course, Petyr?”, said Sansa, blushing. Sansa needed to change the subject. She could feel a flutter in her belly, and it was moving south. 

“Pigeon Pie”, answered Petyr, with mock disapproval. He got up, and cleared the bowls for the table, and came back with next dish. As she ate, it felt as sweet as victory.

”This is what Joffrey was eating when he died.”, said Sansa. “They thought he was choking on his food.” “I’m happy that he is gone.” “He can not hurt me anymore.” Sansa’s face went somber. She lowered her head, and confessed, “I tried to kill him, too.” “He took me upon the walls…” “He forced me to look at my father’s…” A tear streamed down her face. “Something turned in me, Petyr.” “All I saw was the color red.” “I was almost pushed him off, but the Hound stopped me.” She was so ashamed of her words, and actions that she could not lift her head.

Petyr stood, came over to her and knelt beside her chair. “He’s gone, Sansa. "I’ll protect you until my death, if you’ll let me." 

Sansa looked at him with a questioning look.

“Will you marry me, Sansa?” 

Sansa was stunned! She honestly has no idea that he wanted her for his lady and wife. 

Still kneeling, Petyr explained, “I know that the world thinks that you are my daughter, and until it is safe, and our enemies are dealt with, it must stay that way.” “But from the day I saw you, I had to have you.” “Never did I believe that I would feel this way about another woman.” “Those awful nights with Lysa… “ Petyr closed his eyes, and shook his head in disgust. “The only way I could get through them, was to think of you.” Petyr took her left hand and kissed it. “Say you’ll be my wife in your heart.”

Petyr did not need to ask such a question, for Sansa already knew the answer. She was always his. She felt if from that first day at the Tourney, but could not recognize the feeling. “Why did it take such a long time to see the obvious?” thought Sansa.

“Of course, I will, Petyr." "I told you last night." "I don’t want anyone else." "The thought of someone else touching me…"

Petyr stood up, got her out of her chair, and kissed her passionately. His arms were like a vice, but Sansa never wanted him to let go. Sansa was ready for another night of passion, but the ever playful Petyr, wasn't there quite yet.

“Sit down, Sansa.” “I have two more gifts." She sat back down, but she was getting impatient. 

Petyr took the plates away, and came back with a lone platter of lemon cakes. “Are they not your favorite, sweetling?” asked Petyr. 

“Yes”, said Sansa.

“Then eat”, ordered Peytr.

He knelt down on the floor, partly under the table, and between her legs. His hands traveled to her covered knees, and yanked them apart. Sansa took a piece of cake in her fingers and started to nibble, never taking her gaze away from Petyr’s hands. He reached the hem of her dress, and pushed the fabric up to her tops of her thighs. He took hold of her smallclothes and ripped them off, throwing them clear across the room. Sansa was sopping wet. Petyr placed her legs on each arm of the oaken chair, leaving her widespread. She moaned, saying, ”Oh, Petyr!” With a finger to his lips, he said, “Shhh!” “Eat your lemoncake!”

Petyr buried his face into her cunny. His tongue found her rose petal colored nub, and was lapping it with conviction. She was completely out of control, and didn't notice that she was grinding her sex to his mouth. Petyr took her nub in-between his covered lips, shook his head ever so lightly, and hummed deeply. The action sent shock-waves throughout her body. In that moment, she loved her sensitive sex, and was a slave to it. Her hands found the laces of her dress. She hurriedly undid the strings, pulled down the corset to her belly, and started to play with her nipples.

“Do you like your lemoncake, Sansa?", teased Petyr, from underneath her dress.

“Yes!”, said Sansa, completely lost in pleasure. 

Suddenly, Petyr stood up, raked his arm across the table, sending the platter of lemoncakes, wine flagons, and goblets scattering to the floor. He grabbed her forcefully, and kissed her. She wrapped her legs around him, as he laid her on the table. Like a madman, he ripped the new dress, and corset off of her with a physical strength that neither Sansa or Petyr knew he had. His hungry mouth went to her nipples, sucking them, without relent.

“Do It, Petyr!, commanded Sansa. She was desperate for his cock. “Hurry!”

“How?”, asked a crazed Petyr, his tunic and trousers, coming off.

“Hard And Deep!”, cried Sansa. She was out of patience. “NOW!!!”

Petyr slipped his throbbing member inside her with an ease that only a drenched cunt to give. Petyr pinned her wrist down above her head, and started to pump. His strokes were that of a master, hard and deep as Sansa requested, but speed of his pounding, is what threw her over the edge. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she could hear “Lady” howling into the night. She wanted more, and Petyr sensed it. His hands went to her neck. He began to squeeze.

“When It Gets Too Much, Squeeze My Hands, And I Will Let Go!", said Petyr, while continuing to blatantly accost her cunt.

Sansa, so enraptured, nodded her head. His grip, and her sex got tighter, as his strokes got deeper. They could feel the Ecstasy building to an unheardof level. Petyr was lost in her moans, her soft skin, and the feeling of it all. Sansa grabbed his hands, and Petyr let go. They both came together, in an Cosmic Wave of Pleasure, so powerful, that they both blacked out from the sensation!

***

An hour later, Petyr woke up, bent over the table, still inside of Sansa. 

“Wake up, sweetling.” Sansa stirred, and struggled to get her eyes opened. When she woke up, and realized where she was, and started to chuckle. 

“We're still on the table?”, asked a smiling Sansa. 

“Yes, my love!” “We have to go to bed.” Petyr, still inside her, started to fuck her again. 

After a sweet, long minute of this, she said, “Oh please, Petyr, no more tonight. I am so tired.”, Sansa told Petyr, wearily.

“Alright then, but I have one more gift for my bride.”

He eased out of her, and walked over to a lit candle. He gave it to her to hold, scooped her up into his arms, and carried her off to their bedchamber.

Once inside, he sat her gently on the bed, took the candle from her, and put it in the candle holder. Out of his trunk, came a night shift, made of Myrish Lace , dyed black, with white embroidery at the hem. It was of a mocking bird and a direwolf. The mockingbird was perched upon the neck of the wolf, without any fear. Sansa, once again, loved her gift, and asked him to dress her. She stood, raised her arms, and the dark lace tumbled over her naked body. Petyr turned her around, kissed her neck, and began to undo her disheveled braid. Her hair was wild, and loose about her shoulders, and down her back. The scent of her hair was so sweet. Once finished, he turned her around, and surveyed her, by candlelight. 

“You look like a fire goddess!“ 

Sansa kissed him softly, took him by the hand, and led her husband to bed. They got under the lace, and sought refuge in each other’s arms. His hands traveled down to her bottom, and rub it gently. 

“Oh, Petyr.”, whispered, Sansa. 

A moment later, they were asleep. 

***

Sansa woke first. The sun was up in the sky, shining brightly. She sat up immediately, and gave her lacy shift a close inspection. She studied the stitching of the bird and wolf. She knew then, that she would never be free of Petyr. She didn't want to be free of him. He would always be there, haunting her, letting her know who is in charge of her heart. She studied him as he slept, and finally realized, that she was always haunting him. Sansa smiled at yet another belated realization, laid back down, curled happily into his arms, and fell back asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> THE END!
> 
> This is my last chapter of this story. Thank you for all your hits, kudos, and comments. They gave me the encouragement, to carry on with the story, and post on the regular. Love to GRRM for writing an amazing story, and inspiring so many fiction writers. Love to Beyonce of my hometown on Houston, Texas, H-Town, for writing her amazing song "Haunted", and for being courageous, and taking her music to a dark level. Love to Margaret Jon aka "Old Nan", Bran's old nurse. She died before she could see herself in that storytelling role. R.I.P! That was one of my favorite scenes in the first season, so I had to work it into my fic. Thank you all again, and look for another story in the future.


End file.
